


Hidden Things

by Haumeia (Empatheia)



Category: The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Frottage, Love Confessions, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 12:22:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14105292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Empatheia/pseuds/Haumeia
Summary: Sex vampires. God.





	Hidden Things

**Author's Note:**

> 750words entry from sometime last year, I forget when. Don't bother canon-picking.

"I lied," said Thomas quietly.

I stared at him, and tried to make sense of that. He couldn't have. Not all this time. Not being what he was. He'd been mindlessly hungry in my presence a number of times, and had never — not once — gone after me.

So I shook my head. "No, man, come on. There's no way."

Thomas sighed. "Have you ever seen me in full Hunger mode when there wasn't a woman present?"

I thought about it, and frowned. I hadn't. "No, but—"

"Women are my preference," Thomas interrupted, sounding tired, "or rather, I should say they're my Hunger's preference. It likes them better, so it'll ignore men unless it's really desperate."

My frown deepened. "But you...?"

He shrugged. "I don't feel that way about many people, so it's hard to tell if I have a bias one way or the other. Justine is special. And so are you."

I still couldn't parse it. Quietly, some part of me whispered that maybe I didn't want to. Maybe I was playing dumb because this was hard, and I didn't want to deal with it. Maybe it was hard because he was my brother, but I'd felt it too, and I didn't know how to feel about  _ that _ .

"I'm your—" I started to say.

He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, visibly scraping up the tatters of his patience.

I shut up.

After a long moment, I tried again. Not excuses why it couldn't be like that, this time. Just honesty about my end of things. "I know that probably took a lot of guts to admit," I said, as gently as I could manage. "Thanks."

He huffed a brief, harsh laugh. "That's it? Your brother tells you he's always had the hots for you and you just say  _ hey, thanks, good to know? _ "

Frustration rose. "What do you want me to say, Thomas?" I snapped. "If you were expecting disgust, you're not going to get it. Yeah, it's weird for me, but all things considered.... We only share half our blood. We didn't grow up together. We've both got that thing that makes blood important to us, to the point of risking our necks and crossing the lines to protect it, but we didn't grow up together, and that changes things a bit. We've only known each other a few years. I met you as a stranger at a party, and I—" The words cut off in my throat, though I hadn't meant to stop there. I had, in fact, fully intended to charge right through that embarrassing confession. But I couldn't. I just couldn't seem to do it.

Thomas' grey eyes were wide and startled. Not silver-grey, right now. Just regular, human grey. They were still among the top five most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen, and considering the company I kept, that was saying something.

Hadn't I been admitting it to myself all along, in bits and pieces? Sideways, oblique, like looking at the sun through a pinhole projector?

Wasn't I always thinking about how he looked, watching how people reacted to him?

"Harry," Thomas said, slightly hoarse. "For what it's worth, it's weird for me too. I didn't mean to feel this. I went to that party to meet my brother, and expected to feel... well, brotherly. Towards you. And I guess I did, it just wasn't... all."

I remembered. Vividly. Thomas had been wearing that idiotic costume that was more an excuse to show off the rest of himself than anything that could count as actual clothing, and he had introduced himself with a rogueish grin, and I'd liked him. I'd liked him a lot. Though I hadn't been up to admitting it to myself at the time, I'd also liked  _ looking _ at him a lot.

In that parking lot, when Thomas had raised his voice to slow Lara down, I'd felt it just as much as everyone else in the vicinity. That voice had haunted my idle thoughts and stranger dreams for months afterwards. Only in those dreams, it had been directed at me, not his sister.

He was a Raith as much as he was my mother's son. That kind of changed things too, when it came to the incestuous ick factor. It wasn't in my nature to seduce family, but it  _ was _ in his, and I had been — and still was — bound and determined to accept him for  _ what _ he was along with  _ who  _ he was.

"I didn't know who you were," I said, after taking a moment to pull myself together. "At the party. I just saw a stranger, and when that stranger smiled at me, I felt some unexpected things too. Then, and a few other times later on. I clamped a lid on it when I found out who you were, and convinced myself that I just liked you so much because part of me knew you were family."

Thomas smiled at me, a little crookedly.

I'm only a little ashamed to admit that it hit me like a glancing blow from a Mack truck. I went spinning. I didn't let it show.

"I just wanted you to know," he said, letting out a rueful but satisfied breath. "Why I hardly ever touched you unless it was an emergency, I mean. It was part of why I was so messed up and distracted while I was living with you, too. There were other things involved, and you know about all of those, so this is just... the final piece, I guess. Now you have the full picture."

Yeah. I did. Things began to slot neatly into place, things that had never quite sat level before but which I'd just ignored in favour of bigger mysteries. I saw the whole glory of the work of art, and I didn't know what to say.

Thomas loved me on pretty much every possible level. Every one that made even a little bit of sense, anyway. He didn't have parental love for me, because he wasn't my parent, he wasn't responsible for seeing me grow. He didn't have mentor-like love for me, for the same reasons. There were a few kinds that just didn't apply. But all the rest? Check, check, check.

Tears blurred into my eyes. I thought about wiping them away, and decided not to bother. Not until they'd run their course. Not much point.

"Hey, Harry," Thomas whispered, a little shivery frisson in his voice. "Would you mind if I..."

His hands were already reaching out by the time he trailed off. I didn't make him finish the sentence. I just nodded and let my eyes fall shut. His fingers were cool on the sides of my face, but his palms were a little warmer, I noticed randomly. That was probably true of most people, the way the vascular system worked. Extremities lost heat first and fastest.

I was distracting myself, I realized. Trying not to be overwhelmed by the infinitely tender touch of Thomas' mouth kissing my tears away. It had been a long, long time since anyone had been like this for me outside of my dreams, and that was as it should be. I was a force of ruination, the Knight of Winter, a dozen other bad things besides. I didn't deserve it.

That didn't mean I didn't need it, and right now, I was realizing how starved I had been.

I leaned forward a bit, meeting Thomas halfway, communicating without words how I felt about things in the moment. I felt as much as heard his tiny sigh of relief.

"Harry," he whispered again. There was a question in this one, too.

I opened my eyes and looked up at him. Still no Hunger in those eyes. Just an entirely human yearning I recognized as mirroring my own.

"Yeah," I murmured roughly, "okay."

He closed his eyes, shivering for a moment, then leaned down and kissed me on the mouth.

It was at least as good as every other kiss I've had with people I've loved. At least as good as Susan's healing kiss in Edinburgh, when she had taken my pain away and given me a gift in its stead. At least as good as that first with Karrin, on the Harley with the Hunt. Better than some others.

My trepidation melted slowly away. This was all right. It was Thomas, and it was me. We probably weren't done hurting each other — family never is, really — but this probably wouldn't break us.

What's more, I  _ wanted _ to keep going, even if there was some chance it might. I'd wanted this for more than a decade, I was realizing. I hadn't let myself want it out loud, even within the questionable sanctity of my own head, but that wanting had still been there regardless. Waiting. Hoping.

Reaching out, I found his waist and pulled him forward, off his chair and into my lap. He rolled with it easily, kneeling around and over me, letting his long black curls fall around my face. He was so warm. Justine and her coterie kept him well fed.

Letting out a sigh of surrender, I wrapped my arms around him and let him sink into me.

At that point, I realized that stopping was no longer really an option.

I mean, if something came crashing through the door with a morningstar in its gnarly fist, stopping wouldn't be a problem. Heck, if the phone rang, I'd probably pick up.

But in the absence of something else demanding my attention, Thomas had all of it, and I was quite happy to let it stay where it was.

Thomas really knew what he was doing.

I'd known that already, of course, in the academic sense. Sex vampire, and all. I'd seen him charm people out of their pants in under five minutes, and do more with a single caress than most people could do in an hour. The people he kissed tended to forget how their knees worked within seconds. I'd literally watched him catch people with the ease of long practice when they buckled. More than once.

There was a big old difference, though, between knowing it academically and understanding it on a firsthand personal level. I'd had the information before. Now I'd grokked the reality of it, and I was ready to grok some more.

Groaning softly, Thomas rolled his hips against me, holding them there at the perigee, pressing almost to the point of pain. I shuddered violently and jerked up against him. I hadn't paid much attention to the state of myself, but it was abruptly pretty hard to ignore. Fifteen seconds of making out and I was all ready for liftoff.

Sex vampires. God.

I raked my fingertips up his back, inside his shirt, immensely enjoying the way he shivered and twitched and arched into the too-light pressure. I added my nails, after a moment, and that seemed to make it even better for him.

"Ticklish?" I mumbled during a brief pause for breath.

He tensed, bracing himself. "Don't you dare—"

I brought my fingers back down, even lighter, sweeping across his taut waistline like feathers. He writhed, desperately suppressing giggles. Not very successfully, unfortunately for him. I grinned.

"Where else?" I wondered out loud, exploring unhurriedly despite the horrific pressure in my pants. As it turned out, his armpits were almost as bad, and the soles of his feet were the worst. I paid quite a bit of attention to those, stripping his socks off and holding him against me with one arm so he couldn't escape while the other savaged him.

We both had supernatural strength, but he probably could have twisted out of my grip if he'd really wanted to. I would have stopped if he'd earnestly asked me to, of course, as well. He did neither, just protested half-heartedly through his streaming red-faced tears and helpless, undignified gales of giggles.

When I'd had enough of tormenting him that way, I left the soles alone and ran my thumb along the crease on the underside of toes, where they curled in. That wasn't ticklish, but it was still sensitive as heck, and he shuddered and squeezed my hips with his knees.

"Harry," he complained into my ear, a little too breathily to have much bite.

Then he rolled his hips again, and I gave up on teasing him. "Hell's bells," I gritted, suddenly needing every effort just to hold still and hold back.

I'd already lasted longer than most people did, but that was because he wasn't feeding on me, I thought. Somehow, he was keeping his Hunger's nose out of this business for the moment. It had to be tremendously difficult, and probably not a little bit painful. I knew a thing or two about having compulsions and sharing headspace with nasties.

His breathing was a little erratic, but deep and deliberate, and his eyes were clenched tight shut. I recognized the signs.

"Thomas," I said.

"Mmm," he responded, hips pulsing slowly against my eager crotch. He didn't open his eyes.

"Thomas," I said again, with a little more volume and insistence. "It's okay."

He blinked at me. There was a flash of silver around the edges of his irises, briefly, when his eyes focused on mine, but it went away almost before I had time to spot it. "What's okay?" he asked, befuddled.

I shrugged awkwardly. "This. You. I know what you are, and I didn't say yes on the condition that you stop being it for the duration of things. I didn't even know you could."

My brother stared at me. Silver flashed again, just as briefly. He gritted his teeth until it cleared up. Then he said "You don't know what you're asking."

A bark of laughter came out of my chest. "Really?  _ I _ don't know?"

Discomfited, he shrugged. "You've had enough people chewing on your soul lately. You don't need me doing it too."

Instead of arguing that, I dragged him down into a harder kiss, deeper and harsher and very intentionally challenging.

"Harry," he gasped, pulling away, "don't—"

I kissed him again, and slid my hands down the back of his tight jeans as far as they'd let me go. Hands full of his ass, I pulled his hips hard against mine.

" _ Harry _ ," he keened.

His eyes were glimmering, his control slipping as I pushed him. 

Good.

"Thomas," I replied evenly.

"I could hurt you—"

I shook my head. "You know I won't let you. More to the point, we both know you won't let yourself. You're not starving. It'll be fine."

Groaning helplessly, he gave up. I felt it in the sudden slump of his spine, the release of tension. In its place came something else. Something... familiar.

The predatory grace of the Hunger seeped into him, and suddenly I was holding something damn near irresistible in my lap. I wouldn't be answering the phone now, and anything that came through the door might just have to get an eyeful before I got around to dealing with it.

Growling under my breath, I peeled him out of his extremely well-fitted shirt, then myself out of my own too-large tee, and then brought as much of my skin into contact with his as I could. There were waves of cold emanating from him now, making every hair on my arms stand up straight, but I felt like I was on fire, so that was just fine.

I could feel the Hunger going to work on my soul like the rough side of a cat's tongue. He'd been right about the state of it: damn thing was full of potholes and ragged edges. Somehow, though, every sliver he took away seemed to smooth it down, paring away that which was beyond healing, making it smaller but more solid and less diseased-looking. 

I buried my face in the side of his throat and inhaled. He filled my head, and my senses swam. Then he did something to my ear with his teeth and tongue, and I damn near creamed my pants on the spot.

Sex vampires.  _ God. _

This first time, I realized, was not going to be slow and sweet and thorough. Neither of us had the wherewithal remaining for that. I was mere steps away from the brink, and Thomas was writhing against me, clutching my head against his clavicles, shaking in my arms. 

Fine, then. It wasn't like this was the only chance we'd have. We could be all that stuff next time.

"Thomas," I gasped by way of warning.

He didn't respond, except by tightening his thighs around my hips until my spine creaked and rocking with agonizing slowness agaisnt me.

I didn't even try to match his rhythm. A few spasmodic jerks up against him, then I was gone, freezing in position with my spine arched painfully upward and arms clamped hard around him as I wrung myself out. Right into my pants. I felt like a teenager again, and didn't remotely care.

Thomas, pinned against me, shuddered hard a second later and tensed, a low moan escaping his clenched teeth as he followed me down.

"God, Harry," he whispered with what little breath he could catch, "you have no idea how long— how  _ much—" _

"Pretty sure I do, actually," I reminded him in a strangled voice. "Pretty— damn—  _ gnuh _ —"

Thomas snorted breathlessly. "Eloquently put." 

It wasn't fair that he could still speak when I was reduced to unintelligible sound effects, or that he still looked as hot as it was literally possible to be while sweaty and dishevelled on my lap, or that he was smiling down at me like a man who'd stumbled upon nirvana. None of it was fair, but all of it was real, and I couldn't quite seem to get past that.

I could already feel the insidious pull of the post-coital sleepies tugging at me, so with great reluctance, I helped Thomas stand up and then rose to my feet myself. We were a mess, I noted ruefully. A hot mess, for his part, but just a regular smelly mess on mine. Wasn't that always the way.

"I'm gonna shower," I announced.

"Me too," he agreed. 

"Then nap," I continued.

"Good plan," he concurred.

I nodded briskly and turned away.

A thought occurred to me then, and I paused midstride on my way to the washroom. I turned back to find Thomas right behind me, having magically depantsed himself in the two seconds I'd been looking the other way. "I, uh," I said, frantically gathering up the suddenly scattered shards of my thought. "Are you going to go up in flames at some point here? I'm... not all that clear on how that whole thing works."

He shrugged. "Me neither, honestly. Justine can touch me if she uh, washes it off with someone else first. If you want to be safe, that's probably your best bet. I have no idea if it'll be any different because you're the Winter Knight, or my brother, or anything else, though. It might be fine."

"All the same, I'd rather not set you on fire by accident," I said. "If I ever set you on fire, it'll be on purpose."

He punched my arm, mock offended. 

I pinched his side with a little tickle, and he doubled over with a startled gasp.

And just like that, we were fine. I was suddenly sure that we were, and that we were going to  _ keep _ being fine, at least for the most part. We'd still mess things up on occasion, hurt each other, be at odds over one thing or another. Our very natures would ensure that. We were as okay as it was possible for people with our particular lives and pedigrees to be, though, and that was something.

That was enough.

**X**


End file.
